


spaces between us (hold all our secrets)

by amourlouis (hxrrylxrrylxuis)



Series: as young as you are [one shots] [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Insecure Harry, M/M, Pillow Talk, and theyre half asleep and talking, basically harry doesnt want to leave, harry is the little spoon, lots of love for louis, sappy cheesy stuff, smutless, this is so pointless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hxrrylxrrylxuis/pseuds/amourlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: louis and harry will be apart and harry is sad about it and he can't sleep so things happen and this wasn't supposed to be this cheesy</p>
            </blockquote>





	spaces between us (hold all our secrets)

He's smitten, is the thing.

His eyes trace down every crack and crevice and lump and fold; across the slightly sticky skin and down the dark red silkiness of the sheets. Feathery fringe tickles his neck; the sheets wrinkle and the mattress groans in protest as he shifts.

Louis is beautiful, inherently so.

He's beautiful every morning, every afternoon, every evening - every hour and second and day, and Harry is honestly at loss for words. He wants to touch. He wants to feel. A part of him is convinced that their entire relationship is a dream. Harry knows that if Louis was awake and could hear his thoughts - which he can, sometimes, Harry swears, - that he'd poke him in the stomach and and scrunch up his nose.  _"I'm real. You're real, I think. If you've been lying to be about your... um, liveness? Well, I'd be pretty fucking offended, actually."_

A furry object jumps on to the bed, slinking over and settling on Louis's uncovered back. He doesn't flinch, Harry acknowledges with fondness bubbling inside of him, and he feels like a proper domestic sap. Even the cat loves Louis,  _and why shouldn't she?_ He scoots closer, too afraid of waking Louis to grab him and crush him against his chest like a small and slightly animalistic park of him wants to, so he settles for resting his hand atop Louis's own. Louis's digits twitch and he sighs through his nose. Almost as if he's scolding Harry even in his sleep, lips pursed and brow furrowed.

"I  _can't_ sleep," Harry argues, "I'm not even tired."

Foolishly, he waits for a response. The cat peeks at him lazily, eyelids droopy, and paws at the small of Louis's back. He scowls for a moment, turning to lay on his back. The ceiling returns his blank expression, something he is less than grateful for, and it's three in the morning. He needs to sleep. Harry allows himself to glance over at Louis, and sheepishly reaches for his hand again.

"I love you," he mutters instead, and he can  _just_  hear Louis if he tries hard enough. He can hear it because he's listened to it so many times, even on repeat in some occasions; he's heard it in the morning and the evening and when he's sad as well as when he's happy. He's heard it in a whisper and read it in a text and heard it in between laughs, between gasps, between kisses. He knows it better than he knows his own name.

 _"I love you."_ He hears it.  _Perfectly normal to be having a one-sided conversation with a sleeping boyfriend at arse o'clock in the morning,_ he thinks, and he decides that he's just crazy enough to carry on.

"Flight leaves at ten," Harry says, lowering his voice to a whisper. He can't imagine trying to explain himself if Louis were to wake. "I still think you should come with me."

_"I can't. You know that."_

"But it's so lonely there without you.  _You_  know  _that_. And I miss you. LA is a big city, Lou, big enough to lose yourself in. It's like London. But hotter. And more American." He pauses for a moment, sneezes, and continues on. "I like it when you're there. It's a lot more fun when you have someone to come back to after all the boring social-y stuff during the day. And we can have crazy sex-" he can practically  _hear_  Louis's nose crinkling in faux disgust, "I'm kidding. But really. If you won't come with me tomorrow, come with me next time. Promise. Say you'll do it. Please."

Louis rolls over onto his side suddenly, which startles their cat (she unfortunately falls off the bed, but the way she darts from the room leads Harry to believe that no limbs have been broken) and disturbs Harry's soliloquy. Harry supposes he can be forgiven for this, and their hands interlock once more.

"I'll go visit your family with you too. 'Know you love going back to Donny and seeing the girls - and the twins now, I suppose - and your mum. I love seeing them too. They're all so loving and beautiful, like you," says Harry, rubbing the skin of Louis's hand with his thumb mindlessly, "and we can tell them stories. Play games. Make brownies, because Mum's recipe is foolproof and I know you all love them."

He trails off, momentarily losing himself in the thought of it. He doesn't know if it's normal, but he almost enjoys spending time with Louis and his family more than he does his own. He supposes it's part of this journey they're on. Two minds, one heart - something like that. He'll look it up later, but Louis is beautiful and he's delirious from lack of sleep and he thinks he'd prefer to keep talking for now.

"And I love you so much. I love you. I can't say it enough. It'll never be enough. I love you every second of every day, Lou, even love you when you're being a prick. Although I quite like yours, if I'm being honest. Everyone loves you. My mum loves you more than she loves me, I swear, and so does Gemma. The boys love you. The fans love you. People who haven't even met you love you. You're small-" he stops, waiting for Louis to chime in, _"Am not."_ He smiles to himself. "But you've got a big ol' heart. Andy I love the way you protect me, protect everyone; the way you can assert yourself. I love your attitude and your passion and the way you get excited over the little things, too, and the way you smile even when it's raining 'cause there's still a sun somewhere, isn't there?" The smile widens. He is gone for this boy, his boy, and he doesn't even care. "I love you and I always will."

"Sap."

Harry blinks twice, furrowing his brow. "Huh?"

He clearly sees Louis's mouth move this time, so. There's that. He's not going mad, which is excellent for obvious reasons, and he no longer has to imagine Louis's responses anymore, because Louis is awake.  _Shit, Louis is awake._

"How... how much of that did you hear?" he asks, diffident and red in the face, and Louis's open to meet his own. He still looks like he's trying to rid sleep from his system, so Harry can only pray he's just woken.

"Enough," is the response he gets, of course, but Louis's grip tightens and he squeezes Harry's hand gently, two consecutive times, and it's sort of a thing. It comforts Harry in a way only Louis can, even without words, and he's not worried about looking like a fool anymore.

They lay in silence for a beat or two or three; Harry honestly doesn't know, too caught up in staring back at Louis's blue blue  _blue_  eyes until his vision blurs. Louis speaks softly, voice still raspy, and mutters something about sleep. He throws his free arm lazily over Harry's hips, trying to tug him closer. But Louis is only so coherent at this hour, (Harry knows after more than four years of experience) so he ends up pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin of Harry's back instead. The hint is taken either way, and Harry reluctantly turns, releasing Louis's hand. His skin is only cold for a few seconds, though, because Louis wraps around him from behind and presses his nose into the back of his neck. Harry deflates like a balloon, curls in on himself, and relishes the way they fit together like puzzle pieces.

"The duvet," Louis slurs, and Harry's lucky he's long-limbed, honestly. It's harder than one might expect to sit up and pull up a duvet with a fully grown man on his back. Once they're fully covered, Louis huffs out a sigh. "Well, now 's hot."

"Deal with it," Harry says with absolutely no heat whatsoever, because it's  _Louis_ , for Christ's sake.

Louis pauses. "You're hot."

With a snort, Harry fumbles in the darkness for Louis's hand again. His fingers are small and slim, skin soft, and they've touched every single inch of Harry's body. The thought makes him smirk ribaldly despite the way Louis's literally starting to drool on his back, and he thinks very briefly that he's going to hate himself in the morning. Well, later in the morning. "I know."

"Cocky," Louis muses, and it's like he can read Harry's mind again, that bastard; "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"I didn't say _anything_." Harry pouts.

"Yet. 's too early for your shitty jokes. Go to sleep."

" _Lou,_ " Harry drawls, "I can't. You can't. We have to make the most of this. Tomorrow I'll be leaving and then I won't see you for  _ages_."

"More like a week."

Louis's tone is dismissive and it's apparent he's ready to be done with this conversation,  _thank you, come again._ But Harry is suddenly overwhelmed by desperation. He suspects Louis's ever-growing need for drama has rubbed off and corrupted him a bit, but the situation is less than ideal in his brain. A  _week_  without his  _one and only_ ; how could  _anyone_ survive? "Won't you miss me?"

A groan gets muffled in the skin of Harry's neck. "Don't be daft."

"'m not." Harry crosses his arms as best he can in their current position, pursing his lips and huffing a sigh through his nose. Louis's hair tickles his skin as he moves, pressing his lips to Harry's shoulder blade. "You're doing the thing again, Hazza."

"What thing?"

"The kitten thing," Louis responds, and Harry can feel his smile growing without even seeing him. Louis's feet press up against the backs of his legs, and  _Jesus_ , they're cold. He wants to whine about it, maybe, but then Louis's words process and he's back to pouting again.

"I don't know why you think that's a thing. It's not a thing."

"It is. Your face gets all... scrunchy. 's cute, 'cause you're not intimidating."

"Am too."

"Give it a rest, Hazza," Louis laughs, and Harry does _not_  need this right now, thank you very much."You wouldn't hurt a gnat."

"I'm going to hurt _you_  if you don't sod off." He doesn't mean it, really. He couldn't ever hurt Louis in any way. He doesn't ever  _want_  to hurt Louis in any way. He thinks Louis could rob him of every belonging and snap his heart and two and he'd still want the best for him.

Louis responds with another laugh. Harry tries to aim his bum for Louis's crotch in retaliation, but he sort of ends up grinding on him - which wouldn't be a dilemma at any other hour or under any other circumstances - and Louis's laughter bubbles into a snort. "Cheeky."

"I really hate you," Harry glowers. He removes Louis's arm from around his waist, dropping it petulantly, and curls in on himself further. "I take it back. Don't miss me." It's like a completely different person has swooped in when Louis speaks again.

"Baby," he coos, nuzzling into Harry like a fucking cat, which he knows is a sure way to get Harry to open up; screw him. "You know that was me cracking a joke."

"Or two."

"Love you to the moon and back," Louis hums, deliberately ignoring Harry's moodiness, which he knows is only caused by a need for affection. And sleep. "Love you so much, baby, and I love your sappiness."

Flooded with insecurity, Harry hides his face in a pillow. He realizes his clinginess probably annoys Louis, probably makes him think he's stupid, probably makes Louis want to go hang out with other people instead. That's why he isn't coming-

"Stop thinking so much." Louis's arm is around him again. He doesn't want to push it away. Louis scoots, pushing Harry onto his back again so he can look him in the eye. Staring up at Louis makes Harry realize how beautiful he is again.

"Y'know, sometimes I swear you can read my mind," he tells him, hands coming up to play with the short hairs on the nape of Louis's neck. He's resting next to Harry, propped up with one arm, and he needs to shave and probably comb his hair, but. He looks great.

"It's 'cause we're soulmates," Louis whispers, all dramatic and empathetic, and then he gives Harry a shit-eating grin. "Or some fuckery like that."

Harry's eyes fall to his own chest, his stomach and his hips, and he speaks quietly. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Louis crowds his personal space, which Harry would resent under any other circumstances, but he kisses him on the cheek like he's made of glass and mutters his words against Harry's skin, "I forgive you."

"I'm kind of an idiot," he admits, cheeks flushed with heat that he prays can't be seen in the darkness.

"You're not an idiot." Louis chastises him with another peck to the cheek, whispering nonsense about Harry smelling like coconuts. "And if you are, you're my idiot."

"No, I am. I mean - don't interrupt - I'm making a big deal about this. It's not like I haven't been to LA without you before. It's not like we've never been separated in the past. I'm overreacting, aren't I? I always overreact. And I know you hate it when-" he rants, waving his hands around in the air for emphasis, but Louis is apparently having none of that; he interrupts, as he always does, and Harry fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"It's perfectly okay if you miss me. I miss you too. I miss you every second you're not with me, baby. I miss you when you go to the bathroom, even."

"Okay, no. You don't."

"I do." Louis sinks down into the mattress next to him, and the loss of eye contact somehow relaxes and panics Harry at the same time. He can't see Louis as well now, can't see his reactions or his smiles or his cocks of his head. They both stare up at their ceiling with a competing amount of thought, hands at their sides now, and it's been an odd night, really. "I wish you could see how great you are."

"Me? How about y-"

"No,  _listen_  to me. You're the type of person that shoots down compliments before they're even in the air. Jesus. Of  _course_  I'll miss you, Harry. You know why? Because I  _love_  you. I think about you all the time. I want to fold you up and tuck you under my arm, sometimes, keep you safe from all the bad things and the assholes and...  _everything_. I love that you're mine. I love that I'm yours. I love when you wake me up at three in the morning talking to yourself because you're lonely and nervous even though you're too _fucking stubborn_  to admit it, and I love you when you pout and try to hide behind your words when you  _know_  that your actions speak louder than anything else, and I love that you love me. I love your hair and your eyes and your dimples - love your personality and laugh and the happiness that you carry around with you like a virus, and Christ, Harry, I don't know why you can't see just how infatuated I am because it seems that everyone else on this goddamned planet can." He pauses, taking a deep breath, "I don't want them to see it, per se. I don't really care. The only person I care about seeing it is you."

Harry swallows, speechless, and he blindly searches for Louis's hand for the millionth time in a single night. "I- I-"

"You're mine. You're mine, and I love that you're mine. Even when we're grey and can't see anymore, you'll still be mine. And you know that will never change, no matter how far away you are or how long I go without seeing your face." He squeezes Harry's hand again, twice, and Harry isn't used to these emotional heart-to-heart conversations. His eyelids feel heavy and his brain is no longer on red alert, and he wonders if Louis is a wizard or just really really good at calming him down. A combination of both, at least.

"I love you," he says, and he thinks it sums everything he's feeling right about now up well enough.

"I love you."

It's silent for a few minutes, and Harry fears that Louis has fallen asleep again. He really does not agree with their current physical positions, and he especially does not agree with leaving in the morning after all of this. He decides to whisper this time, because waking Louis twice is less than a good idea, but he crosses his fingers and toes for double the luck. He hopes.

"Can I kiss you?"

Louis's chest rises and falls.

"Do you even have to ask?"

**Author's Note:**

> come find me here or on wattpad and we can chat


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